THE SPY OUT OF TIME
by innovare
Summary: "I am a spy operating outside of time, to get everything in line." [An AU story which skips alongside the original timeline]
1. Chapter 1

COPYRIGHT: existing characters belong to NBC and the creators of Timeless. Story written for fanfiction fun.

AUTHOR: lezaanv

SUMMARY: "I am a spy out of time, to get everything into line."

(An AU which skips along the original timeline)

CHARACTERS: Garcia Flynn; Lucy Preston; Rufus Carlin; Wyatt Logan

PLEASE BE ADVISED: story has not been beta'd. I apologize in advance for any mistakes, as they are unfortunately mine.

* * *

**ONE**

* * *

"No-no this won't do." He pushed the flaming Hindenburg, screaming civilians and Lucy's terrified face aside, shook his head, keeping it in a canted position.

_He stood towering over her, feeling every wake of the nerves teeming in his chest. "I don't think you want to know . . . you were older . . . and you looked good." _

This, he too, slid off to one side and groaned, growled and then settled.

"_Honestly, I didn't think it would happen."_

_The sun basked his face, clenched jaw, and black cowboy attire in a heated blanket. An expressive smile curled his lips. His whole body was on fire, knowing the outcome of the journal, even the soon to be peace and quiet between himself and Lucy. _

_Her cheeks flushed, but not from the warmth of its rays. _

He clung to the image for long drawn-out seconds before he blinked it away.

Shifting on the cot, Flynn swallowed a few times, stemming the mixture of raw emotions battling against his need for perfect composure.

_The feisty historian stood before him, strong and beautiful, form calm and eyes intense. They flitted from the detonator in his hand, to the tethered expression forming on his face. She pleaded for some kind of middle ground; a way to clear the distance between them, find something, anything to bridge the gap, and work together._

_Sincerity lit up her face. She wasn't simply speaking for the sake of persuading him not to blow them to smithereens. She was tired, at a complete loss, just like he was. A scene so uncanny, but so beautiful and heart-warming, how could he not succumb to someone just as strong as he claimed to be?_

Lingering on the image, Flynn rotated it in a three-sixty degree turn, until he found the desired angle and fixed it on a delicate moment not even Wyatt Logan knew existed. In his mind's eye, he stepped up to her, noting the deep intensity brimming in her eyes. Fear, desperation, life and death, and a slight, minute compassion flickered across her silky facial features. A façade so subtle and rare, he looked over his shoulder and marked the anger, fear and confusion which marred his jagged expression. The detonator blinked, his mouth ajar, as he reasoned for the maddening plan to kill a room full of Rittenhouse members.

"_We work together."_

"When?" Flynn said aloud. "Even in this moment, you doubt my credibility. Rather you take pity on me. You know I hate your pity and compassion." He swiped his arm through the air, casting the memory far off to the side.

_A shot rang out. _

_Lucy's agonizing grunt resonated in the abandoned building, more bullets ripping after Emma's retreating form. The pistol fell to the floor, as did Lucy, and he quickly enveloped her in his arms, listening tentatively to the sobs echoing through the chaotic haze. She was angry, bitter, in pain. He held her close to him, suddenly realizing something needed to change between them. He placed his forehead against hers, understanding her pain and loss. So much loss and pain._

His heart pounded in his chest, the memory evoking a new kind of appreciation for this covert life he chose, for this time loop which Lucy's alternate-self had begun years before.

One in the same and by all means they still ran alongside one another.

"_I felt like I knew you. Understood you. Lucy dammit, sometimes I feel like I know you better than you know yourself."_

"_What do you want from me Flynn? You don't know me."_

_Something tore at his heartstrings. Her rebuff cut deep, serrated, and for a split second, he wondered why he cared so much for her acceptance._

"_Well, I guess we're having our own awkward moment right now."_

They sure had a few awkward moments after then.

The more he focused on them, the more he came to realize the noose she'd tied around his neck. Following her lead, her intelligence and courage, feisty ability to stand upon solid ground when the world around her crumbled to pieces. But loss, it crippled the both of them, and he guessed that's what drew them together since the day he met Lucy Preston from the future.

He adored their disagreements, their agreements. Especially when they didn't coincide, at all, on what needed to be accomplished for the greater good.

Speedily, Flynn swiped the series of reeling memories far from his mind's reach and refocused, tightening the grip on his heart's desire. It wanted what it wanted, but at present, he had to focus.

_With bound hands, he gestured to the empty chair across from him. The ball cap obscured her soft features, but he saw past the shaded parts. She had seen better days, not knowing, yet, the worst of them were still to come. Thanks to the journal, he knew the trials and temptations awaiting on the horizon. Couldn't do a damn thing about it either._

_Willingness was earned, not forced._

_Never expected her own mother to be the enemy. Hell, he never expected her to visit him in jail. Nor did he foresee her using his deceased wife and daughter as a means to goad him into submitting the information they needed. _

_She had guts. It gave him the guts, too much, afraid._

A deep chuckle shook his lean frame. It came again, with relief bubbling in its wake, but he swiftly snuffed it, knowing it wasn't the time to linger on bygones and lost memories. This task wasn't some run of the mill errand or a walk down memory lane for the sake of holding onto precious moments, good and bad. It was time to wipe away these curt flashes from existence. They weren't made to reminisce.

"Why?"

He spun on his heels. "I can't remember."

"Think."

Flynn stroked his forehead, the pain relentless. "I said I don't know."

"Not good enough."

"It hurts. The pain-" He squeezed his eyes tightly shut, breathing deeply and achingly. "Please. Stop. I can't do this."

A man drenched in a white lab coat sighed. "It's a long shot."

"He's the key." A woman announced through gritted teeth.

"I am the key." Flynn echoed, facing the two-way mirror. "To what?"

"The pain of her existence."

He frowned at that. "Erasing?"

"Gluing thoughts together." The man explained.

"False or true?"

"We've been through this already." The woman flung her hand at the mirror. "Start it again."

"The time in between relapses are shortening."

"I don't care."

"You want a robot, or an effective killing machine?"

"How about neither." Flynn jested from the other side of the mirror. "Less pain. Those odds I like a little better."

"You are in no position to demand, or think. You've submitted to the process, I expect you to hold to our agreement."

A scowl crinkled Flynn's forehead. "I . . . agreed. Why?"

"We don't have time for this. Subdue him and begin again."

The man nodded. "Yes, Ma'am."

Flynn charged for the mirror, slamming rounded fists against its glistening surface. The lab coat jumped back with the intensity, observing how the pure agony played out on the man's face.

"Please don't. I feel them slipping away. Please, I don't want to forget."

The man adjusted the white coat too slack for his small figure. He cleared his throat. "Them?"

Flynn's hands slid down the cool surface, the expression of unreserved heartache clear-cut on his face. He was devastated and alone, murmuring loud enough for the lab coat to hear. "My wife and daughter."

The man scowled down at the clipboard in his left hand. "No mention of a wife and child. This could be the side-effects of extracting your memories, Garcia."

"No." His index finger tapped the area he thought the man stood watching him. "They're there. It's the main reason for crusading the timeline. The fight's always been for them. Lorena and Iris. They are my world, I'll never forget them, but now they linger on the outskirts of my mind. I can sense they are barely in reach. My subconscious mind is fighting for them. I feel it – the war between your meddling and their . . . ."

In the backdrop, the lab coat called for the orderlies.

Behind Flynn, the door glided open with a loud whoosh. Big burly men dressed in beige clothes filled its frame from one end to another.

"Don't be callous, Richard." Flynn pleaded.

The men stepped inside and the door closed. A panic settled in his chest.

"You knew the consequences when you submitted to her demands."

Backing into the corner, he shook his head vigorously. "Not at the expense of my wife and daughter. Lucy was the agreement. Not them."

The lines on the monitor spiked. Richard scowled at the translucent screen mounted beside the two-way mirror, then shouted at the advancing men. "Wait!"

They halted centre room.

"Your vitals are sky rocketing. You're telling the truth?"

"I told you!"

"When?"

"2014."

In Richard's hand, the clipboard reeled the disastrous memory vividly. "Stop the recall!"

Flynn slid along the wall, down to his rump, his body shaking exhausted and on the brink of collapsing altogether.

"I believe you." Richard lulled. "Now that I know what I'm looking for, I'll keep the remembrances safe and intact. I promise Garcia, but you have to focus on Ms. Preston. She is your only target."

"When was she not?"

At the question, the burly men walked away, with only their tennis shoes squeaking a hasty retreat, and then the door whooshed shut.

Flynn gazed about the whitewashed room, finding its vast space particularly small and constrained.

"She was always the target." He murmured, rubbing both hands through his unruly hair. Grey strands stained its jet-black colour. "A means to an end, but just for a second I hoped. Seconds that turned into months, to years. Lose her or lose my precious family."

"I can see why you are conflicted." Richard cleared his throat. "Sit on the cot, Flynn." The tall man stood and did as instructed. "Good."

"When you're done, I won't recall who she is?"

The man nodded even though Flynn couldn't see. He spoke his answer. "Yes, I'm positive."

"A killing machine." Came the whispered regret.

"A spy rooted in the past." Richard confirmed.

Flynn chuckled wearyingly.

"The team, at every time jump. At every alternate timeline."

"What about entropic cascade failure? Being present in a time and place where my original self will be, and supposedly vulnerable, it then has to be quick enough to avoid the merciless headaches."

"We saved you, didn't we? You survived that evening."

"After Jessica Logan died, yes?"

"That's correct."

"Immune or running on bought time?"

"Neither."

"And won't he notice my presence? Won't my memories fuse with his? Why did I agree to this?" Flynn screamed frustratingly.

"Not if it's Flynn Prime, and not if you've achieved mission success within the first twenty-four hours. So calm down, Garcia. You have nothing to be worried about."

"Don't you dare pacify me! I have the right to admittance. At least let me deny what I can no longer deny."

"Fair enough."

The Croatian laid down on his back and gestured at the mirror. "Don't condescend me either."

Richard sighed a tad riled. "Full of demands today."

"Just . . . let's get this over with. Take my agony away. Erase her. Make me the effective assassin my other self will never be."

The man scoffed. "Don't worry, I'm good at it. Now, close your eyes and think."


	2. Chapter 2

**TWO**

* * *

The thick jungle vegetation rolled along with the hills seesawing into the distance. Flynn tapped the large observation window, reminding himself this wasn't make belief. No, this moment, this jungle – they were real. He had to have faith – that this ludicrous plan would work.

"What time period?" The sound of his voice was surreal and barely recognizable. He grimaced.

"There's a moment in time where both your counterpart and your target are distracted. Arguing over whether or not to kill a young boy. Rittenhouse's son to be precise."

"Fine."

Richard Townhouse smirked satirically. "You can be more enthusiastic, you know."

Flynn ignored the blasé attempt and walked by the lab coat. "Enthusiasm's a lost cause. And for goodness sake, get a smaller coat or stick to a less obvious outfit. I'm the spy and you're the scientist. The only confirmation you need to distinguish the one from the other."

"Geez, who died and made you the stylist?"

They entered the hall, which recently converted into a wardrobe, stocked with clothes from different eras, and headed for the Civil War section.

"General Washington is this way." Richard turned left. "1780 not 1861. C'mon, Garcia, get your head in the game."

"Excuse me, but you hold my memories in a glass jar." He shoved the tiny scientist aside and into a row of colourful ball gowns. "Do mind the mix up."

"I'll reset you." Richard threatened half-heartedly, fixed his askew coat before retrieving the clipboard which hid underneath the load of fallen ball gowns.

"Ah please, don't get your dress into a twist."

"Funny." Muttering his discord, Richard kicked at the gowns and trotted after the giant Croatian. "You looksee the trend of clothes and decide quickly. Weapons are this way when you're done." He stalked straight down the row, then disappeared to the right.

"Uh-huh." Flynn traced his long, slender fingers over the fabric of the red and blue military dress uniforms, walking along until he stopped.

What would represent a man of prospect and class and assassination?

White breeches, stockings and shoes? Sky blue coat and a hip length waistcoat over a white dress shirt?

No, he needed to exhibit power and stature, to knock the silk brocade shoes off his target.

He retreated with a few steps and pulled at an ensemble, smirking light-heartedly. His shivering hand reached for the hanger while the other hand sleeked back the stubborn grey fringe covering his forehead.

A dashing black and gold ensemble. If only for a split second, it would allow passage wherever he wished to go, whomever he wanted to address and whenever he needed authorities to go by him without waver. It was perfect. Rubbing at his thickened beard, he walked down the row, turned right, and found Richard tapping the glossy floor with an impatient foot.

"Were you chatting up the shop assistant or something?"

"For a man you sure do whine a lot."

"I'm built for intellect and ingenious inventions, not . . ." He waved curtly at the strutting spy. "Not babysitting a living, breathing human."

"That's a double negative, genius."

"Just. Pick your damn arsenal before I faint from tolerance."

Behind the scientist, several steel lockers stocked various weapons big and small. Flynn's green eyes sparkled. His fingertips, he found traced each one thoroughly and automatically. A sense of touch was second nature these days, a reminder he was alive with selective memories and not dead.

He sighed contented, and yet was undecided in terms of weapon's choice. "The mission will be a quick one?"

"If you're inferring precision, your wardrobe already blends with the nature of the era. So of course, it will be in and out. Weapons are not a problem."

"Good." He grabbed the Sig Sauer pistol famous for federal agents, then a silencer and three clips. "Great." Then picked a dagger well known in the 1700's. "Got one of those canes?"

Richard's blonde brow shot up to his even lighter hairline "Hmm?"

"Concealed Rapier."

"Oh. Yeah." After backpedalling, the scientist jogged beside the steel lockers until he reached the last one in the line. He opened it, humming under his breath, bit his top lip, then reached in. "Oh yeah baby. She's a beaut." The cane had a dark mahogany colour to it, its polished surface glittering in the overhead lights.

Flynn smiled, chuffed by the design and its appealing appearance. Folks wouldn't think twice about his status, or mysterious handsome features. Not when their eyes were glued to the transcendent walking stick.

"Excellent! You outdid yourself Sigmund Freud."

"Oh please." The cane exchanged hands, with Richard scowling deeply at the reborn spy. "Science fiction, not psychoanalysis."

"As if I would know the difference." The sharp double-edged blade glinted when Flynn pulled it from its hiding place. "But oh so perfect." The blade glided back into the confinements of the cane, and then tapped the floor thrice in procession. "September 25th, 1780, Revolutionary War. Here I come."

"Don't forget to click your heels twice."

Flynn scoffed. "Huh, there's no place like home."


	3. Chapter 3

**THREE**

* * *

"Please." A scared young boy's sobs filled the crisp evening air. "Please don't."

The following sound resonated familiar and clear, it sliced through bone and marrow. His own voice, grunted in pain, agony and displeasure.

Flynn peered around the tree, with pistol poised at his side. His target was still outstanding whilst he watched Garcia turn his back on the boy, walk away, with breathing laboured and haggard, and then his target entered the frame and shielded the boy.

_Ms Preston I presume._

No remorse and no guilt filled his emotions. Nothing – the memory extraction had worked. He felt nothing, at all, but the man pointing his gun at the unarmed civilians felt too much for his liking. He once was that deranged, emotional man. If he could, laughter would suit the thought to a tee, but instead he observed the scene play out rather dramatically and intensely.

"Move."

"No, no." Lucy protested softly.

"Move!" Garcia screamed.

"No!" She yelled back.

He admired her vigour and courage; sadly it would be a short-lived emotion, and so would this moment. He moved from his place and walked up behind his counterpart, stopping on the fringes of the tree line.

"I'm not letting you kill a child."

"He's all that's left of Rittenhouse."

"We don't know that. He said that there were others. You don't know that killing his son will change anything."

_And yet this moment is all I need to change everything._

The spy stepped closer, careful to keep to the shadows.

"He wants everything his father wants."

"When you were twelve you wanted to be a cowboy. People change."

"He's gonna do terrible things."

"Why? Because his father wants him to. You don't know that."

His counterpart turned away from Ms Preston, stared directly at him without realizing it.

A thrill spiked in his stomach. This scene, it was intoxicating, especially since he was so close and unnoticed, and they were oblivious, so caught up in this powerful moment, to care about a stalking killer. It was priceless.

"You have a choice, right now." She reasoned further. "We all have choices. We can decide to be something different."

The emotionally scarred giant faced her, walked for her while she begged for mercy, all the while he, Flynn walked up behind his younger-self, with pistol at the ready. With safety off and the silencer inches away from the man's head, who grabbed her wrist in anger, both collapsed to the ground, dead on site.

"My word can you ramble." Flynn looked down at Garcia's lifeless form. "You had the opportunity to kill two birds with one stone and you screwed it up. Because you couldn't separate emotion from rational thought." He noticed the mud on his polished black shoes. "Ugh, now look at what you've made me do. They were brand new. Richard's gonna have at it as soon as I get back."

Rufus and Wyatt's call out echoed over the field, and he quickly retreated to the safety of the trees. Their voices called her name once more up until Rufus shrieked his horror. The men ran over to Lucy and Flynn, shocked to find them dead. Rufus knelt down, panicked and confused, while Wyatt scoured the terrain for signs of Garcia's goons.

_Smart man._ A devious smile quirked Flynn's lips, reached his green eyes. _You always were a smart man._ Meters behind Flynn, the Mothership's arrival sounded dull and unnecessary.

He focused on the men deciding what to do with the short amount of time before those goons ambushed them, then aimed his pistol at them.

They weren't his targets. Ms Preston and Garcia Flynn were, and he'd achieved the objective of disrupting their timeline. Wyatt and Rufus would return empty-handed – that was the initial plan. But . . . he would have mercy and allow them the privilege of taking her back along with them.

Decided, he found his way through the densest part of the vegetation, and then once his former comrades came into view, pinned them down for a minute.

Afterwards, he was gone.

* * *

The soft clicking noise of LED lights coming on and switching off echoed after the men as they made their way deeper into the facility.

Flynn gazed about the area, peering left and right down the adjacent corridor they passed by, and then narrowed his eyes to slits. Everything around here held a glossy beige quality to it, reminding everyone what precision, cleanliness and running a tight ship required. Dirt and indiscretions seemed to pop out more, shouting and screaming a person's mistakes. To him, it merely covered what hid beneath the perfection, for they expected him to be no less than perfect.

This was not, far from it.

And somehow he could feel it, knew it, but denied it.

"Agh, you're tracking mud down the corridor."

Oh he had called it, though unfortunately he couldn't collect on his own deduction. Flynn shrugged innocently. "That's what the cleaning bots are for."

"They're not toys." Richard moaned. He composed himself. "Etiquette and cleanliness are advised."

Together they turned the corner, heading for the last door on the left.

"If you say so."

The scientist looked down at the clipboard. "Um, side effects?"

Flynn scratched the back of his neck. "I don't know. Does insensitivity count?"

He chortled. "Glad your sense of humour's intact. Unfortunately."

"This new Mothership? You sure it can't be tracked?"

The men stopped at the door labelled 'Briefing Room'. A frown lined Flynn's brow, wondering if they'd done this once before.

Richard, noticing the hesitance, opened the door and gestured for him to enter. "We're sure."

"Hm, you're sure."

In the box-tight room, the circular light flickered like a defective spark plug.

"The light is on the frits again." Flynn pointed out, frowning once more when the word 'again' resounded gravelly.

"Uh, yeah. Been meaning to fix that." Richard said through gritted teeth, then gave the spy a boisterous grin, to cover the slip.

"We've done this before?"

"Uh, no. This is your first mission."

He could have sworn it was the tenth. Flynn nodded his understanding, though the frown deepened on his face. He sat down at the table, listening to the anxious retreating steps of his colleague before interlacing his hands on the table's surface.

In his natural senses something was off, seemed familiar. His mind, however, begged to differ. It justified the scientist's conduct as normal geek behaviour. Thus he had nothing to worry about. Things were running smoothly, as the empty, none human environment would've liked him to believe.

Flynn closed his eyes and waited.


	4. Chapter 4

**FOUR**

* * *

Horses snorted in the backdrop.

The sun broke through the tree canopies, illuminating his former-self standing on the snow-white ridge. He gazed through the scope just as Flynn peered through his own rifle's scope. Three miles out, five riders on horseback were on the outskirts of entering the valley. Garcia turned and walked back to Jesse James, with Flynn using the outlaw's fourth revolver shot as cover for his own sniper shot.

Down in the gulley, Ms Preston fell from her horse, the bullet hitting her heart dead centre. Patiently he watched how the remaining men scattered for shelter.

That would hold them off for a bit longer. Now . . . he had to wait for his counterpart and entourage to leave.

"Rest assured brother, I used to be you."

"What's your point?" Garcia asked after the outlaw had finished.

"I ended up on the wrong side of that war. Grand Confederacy is all gone. But I just keep right on killing. You know why that is? 'Cause deep down a killer is what I always wanted to be. I just needed an excuse. Do you know what another word for excuse is?" The outlaw paused, with Garcia gazing on unperturbed and a tad riled. "Cause."

"Are you saying that's me?" Garcia and Flynn asked in unison, the latter in a whisper.

The outlaw said nothing more, turned and walked around his horse. By this time, Flynn had already anticipated the Indian lookouts and sauntered away, towards the cabin nestled deeper within the forest. He wasn't here to kill her, he would simply congratulate her, just as he would use her as a distraction for his own death.

He smirked at that, and then again once he reached the cabin by nightfall, which was thrice as creepy the second time round. He didn't remember the double barrel shotgun, but he did remember the rifle she would use on him the next day. So that meant he had to make this trip short and sweet, knowing what chaos laid in store for his counterpart years from this meet.

Smoke rose from the chimney, he could smell the wet wood in its putrid odour, along with the aroma of herbs and deer meat. He never imagined the redhead cooking; frankly, he couldn't imagine her living a normal life either. However, what he did imagine, what he did know and understood about her, ruthless was a dish best served hot and spicy. And not in the good sense of the term. She was a competent killer.

Stepping up onto the back porch, he treaded lightly, sure to miss any piece of wood which would signal his presence, and entered the cabin with ease.

The same broken laptop, keyboard, yellow and blue cords, a speaker and worn-out books littered the main table. Batteries, a dvd player and computer motherboards, old cellphones and a radio occupied the smaller table by the window overlooking the front porch. Many more discarded technologies were scattered across a windowsill behind him, where he now sensed she stood with rifle aimed at him.

"You sure aren't from around here. Are you?"

"How did you find me?"

Raising his hands, he did a slow about-turn. "Oh, you wouldn't believe me if I told ya."

"Try me."

"You'll have the exact same conversation tomorrow."

Emma hesitated, or it was what he believed he saw in her slight change in posture. Either way she understood the breadth of his curt declaration. "Then you'd best explain yourself."

"He will, tomorrow. I just need a fraction of an opening." Flynn paused, lowering his hands. "To kill him."

"You?" She questioned, understanding the implication, and what it meant for her from here on out.

"Yes."

"You're from the future."

"Yes, sort of. Well, from some other alternate timeline where I am the primary. I think." He grinned roguishly, trying to cover up the blunder of doubt.

"You're not sure." Emma chuckled, lowering the rifle.

Sharing the amusement, Flynn combed a hand through his salt and pepper hair. "Damn, I thought I hid that one. The upside is . . . you get to keep his Mothership and soldiers."

"Not before you tell me where it is." The familiar book and pencil she lifted for him to take.

Flynn waved her off. "I-I." He scowled his concern, then concluded. "He'll tell you. Afterwards, I'll kill him."

"You don't remember?"

"Safety precaution."

"But you have your own Ship."

"You see why it's imperative he tells you." A thought struck and he quickly revised. "No-no, he'll want to show you."

"I see the flaw in the plan." Emma walked by him, grabbed the stake and stoked the fire. "Don't worry, I'll kill him."

He faced her. "No, I must. I have to report back."

"When you get back, the change would've taken effect. I will know and the mission will be considered a success."

"You've done this before." He stated more than questioned.

She ignored his frustration, and busied herself with gathering the utensils needed for her dinner. "She and I are one in the same. It's easy to course correct. Just say when, and I'll take care of the rest."

Stroking his aching forehead, Flynn took a seat, cautious not to let his guard down. "After you return to January 2017, you'll be alone with Anthony and myself."

"Good, gives me enough time to catch up. Find out who the enemy is and what not."

He nodded and murmured to himself. "Where did I fail?"

Emma frowned, taking a seat by the fire and rifle that leaned against the wall. "I take it your mission was prearranged, going with the facts at hand."

"I suppose."

"They made you feel like you strategized the plan, but in fact they did."

Recognition flashed in his green eyes. He took the black cowboy hat and played with its rim. "You're implying they wanted you to know how the future goes. That I'm a spy operating outside of time, to get everything in line."

_Not precisely._ She thought, then nodded to confirm his assumptions. "Sounds like her."

"You mean _you_."

"Not yet."

Silence settled between them, the one staring at the other. None curious to know more or say more. He did his part, and she would do her part. This he would only learn once he returned. Thus everything was established, in a way. It appeared she didn't need the finer details in order to carry on with her mission objective. Which seemed strange. This was the first time, in her timeline, she saw him, and tomorrow she would see his younger-self, too. And she acted calmly, blasé even, there had to be more to this meet than he surmised. Because it didn't go the way he hoped it would. This woman acted with less hostility than she did with him back then. Her curt dialogue supported the same conduct, that she knew what he knew.

_Could it be? _

"Well, this is awkward." He said. "I should leave you be."

"Yes."

As he stood, he watched her without giving away his true thoughts. Grinned and walked for the door. "Don't do anything I wouldn't."

"No, I definitely won't."

"He's not alone. The vile outlaw Jesse James will be with him. So they call him."

"Uh-huh." She watched him tilt his hat in goodbye, and then he was gone.


	5. Chapter 5

**FIVE**

* * *

"You needed to see with your own eyes who they are. And why you're gonna fight them." Garcia said.

"Yes, that's right because everyone knows my future except me."

Deep within underground Paris 1927, Flynn rubbed at his eyelids, with thumb and forefinger, struggling to rid himself of the agony throbbing against his forehead. He blinked away the foggy view and narrowed his eyes at the dirt-covered floor.

"The way you feel about Rittenhouse right now. Can't tell me it would be at least a little bit satisfying taking him out."

"You can't just kill Charles Lindbergh. It's not right."

Flynn shook his head, confused and somehow agreeing with Ms Preston's statement. With two slender fingers, he rubbed his temple. What was he supposed to do again? Thinking only made it worse. He stopped and listened.

"And you think he's gonna just, what? Give up all that fame, the power, the legacy?"

"Yes." Lucy said to the point. Garcia snorted. "I would."

"Okay, I'll take that bet. It will be entertaining, if nothing else. You convince him there's a better way, and I will spare him."

Garcia moved to open the door for Lucy when Flynn's mind suddenly became coherent. _Oh yes, of course._ A beat followed and then he lifted his weapon.

Pop. Pop.

Ms Preston and Garcia's lifeless bodies fell to the ground.

He walked away, stroking his temple with the heel of his hand. "He said 'the team, at every time jump. At every alternate timeline'."

So then why were he only assigned two targets? Himself and Ms Preston?

And this mission left them with fourteen timelines to go, with most of the opposing team still standing strong. Didn't make sense. He seriously wanted it to make sense, since needlessly killing the same two people repeatedly, did not. It caused confusion and unconcern, and more spilling blood which cycled around the same bend time after time. He couldn't tell the one from the other anymore. They were all the freakin' same. How many times had he killed them, too?

He took the corner wide, bumped a shoulder against the tunnel's wall and stopped when he noticed the redhead scrutinizing his facial features from a distance away. It was mostly the silver in his beard, he noted, that drew her attention. He kept on walking.

"Oh hey Emma." He paused, baffled, and then swiftly aimed his weapon at her the same time she did.

She canted her head. "You're . . . out of time."

"Thanks. I know." Flynn checked his watch. "Got thirty minutes left to get back."

"_Outside_ of time." Emma corrected annoyingly.

"Yeah, yeah, that, too." He said enthusiastically.

"Just." She huffed an angry sigh and lowered her pistol. "Go. Get out of here."

"Cool, it was nice seeing you." Flynn smiled, genuinely pleased to see her and walked by. She grabbed his bicep, stopping him short, tore a piece of paper from a small notebook, scribbled something short, then crumbled it inside the pocket of his brown leather jacket.

"When you get back, give it to the first person you see."

"Sure, no problem." Flynn chuckled and waved over his shoulder. "Left quite a mess back there. So be careful . . . and toodles."

Watching him disappear from view, Emma shared the same deranged amusement. "Yeah, sure. Thanks."

* * *

Back in the present, Flynn stumbled from the Ship like a drunken sailor, laughed, once Richard helped him upright, and blurted out his newly discovered friend's name.

"What did you say?" Richard requested alarmed.

"Saw Emma."

"What? What did she say?" He seized Flynn's shoulders and insisted more urgently. "Did she say anything?"

"Whoa, man." Flynn pushed him away, then laughed up at the bright floodlights lighting up the warehouse. "Did not see me coming. She looked so confused. I was out of time. And then I was outside of time. But I was definitely in time. I know. They surely didn't. Why didn't they? They should've, definitely."

He laughed again, until Richard shoved him against the wall. His demeanour changed, giving the scientist a ticked off glare. "Hey, what gives?"

"That's what she said? She didn't _do _anything else? Give you anything?"

The tiny scientist shoved him against the wall for a second time, wanting him to think more clearly. It merely angered the giant to poise his fist for a heated fight.

Richard threw his hands up in protest. "Hey hang on. You're still in control. C'mon, just think for a bit. Did Emma do something when she saw you? Please, it's vital."

Flynn narrowed his eyes at his raised fist, wondering what he wanted to do with it, gazed to the scientist who still held his hands defensively, then slumped back against the wall. It took long tedious moments before he realized what the man had requested of him, patted down chest and stomach, searched through his pants' pockets, and then found the crumbled paper in his jacket pocket.

"Hey, look." He said in wonder.

Richard snatched it from the spy's trembling fingers and uncurled it.

_Delusional._

_Talkative._

_Fix it!_

To the point, yes, though very informative, and gave the key things he needed to adjust for the next mission. Lifting his gaze, he watched how the giant crumbled before him and fell onto his side, out cold.

The memory extraction or even the recalls triggered in the field caused the delusions. Or the missions themselves were starting to take a toll on his mental health. Either way, and with the needed modifications made after each mission, he could only dampen the side effects from the cascade failure for so long. Flynn himself was the problem. He wasn't quick enough, too focused on precision, to realize he was his own downfall.

Retrieving the walkie-talkie from his coat's pocket, he pressed down the talk button. "Command, I need Alex and Bruce down here ASAP. The patient's collapsed again."

"Affirmative, Dr. Townhouse. They will be dispatched. Over."

"And let them take him straight to reconditioning."

"Yes Sir."

Richard gave the spy one last onceover and tsked. "Tut-tut. What hell have you prescribed for yourself? Only you would know, Garcia. Only you would know. But."

He left him lying there and walked across the warehouse for the double doors which glided open for the burly orderlies. He stepped aside, acknowledging their presence with a curt wave and nod. Watched them march for the beat spy.

"They say with age comes wisdom." The scientist faced the corridor and went right. "Loss eats away at one's faith and sanity." Upon reaching the elevator, he pressed the 'down' button. "But what does time do when it has you in its grip?" It opened and he stepped inside. They slid shut, with the elevator exhaling a gust of compressed air when it responded to his command. "It messes with your mind, tears you apart, then spits you out, like a predator fed up with its meal."

The doors opened on the fifth floor.

He walked ahead, straight down the corridor towards where the familiar whitewashed room situated.

"'Twas your fate, to be twisted and contorted by the hands of time, Garcia. The choice you made to seek out redemption, from the enemy no doubt. It was your destiny, to be wrung out until there was nothing left of your worthless existence. Again, by your choice, we simply facilitated in view of that."

The burly men went by him, laid Flynn on the cot standing in the middle on the room, then walked away.

Richard stood over him, examining the spy's sullen, drawn-out facial features. "This proposed death is your own."

Flynn's eyes suddenly opened, startling the scientist from his towering position. He scrambled for the door, watching with big round eyes the giant rise to his feet.

"I never agreed to be slaughtered." Flynn hissed vexed. "The plan was always the team." He stalked for the scientist who slammed against the door vehemently. "It's for Lucy. To eliminate _all_ possible timelines, except for my own." He grabbed the scientist by the throat and lifted him off his feet. "To reset the original timeline." The tiny man struggled in his grip. He smirked maliciously. "To be more precise, you're stealing my memories one after the other! While I deliver Emma the precious information she wants for her own future."

Flynn knocked Richard against the wall, observing how he fell to his rump, grasping for much needed breath.

"My death is _your_ proposed outcome!" The doors opened. He retreated quick as lightning, from their determined advance. "You're using me, to wipe out-" The men tackled and lifted him in unison, slamming him against the two-way mirror. It shattered to pieces and he fell forward, then down into a heap.

Reality? _This is reality!_ Flynn's mind screamed loud and clear. _Not a nightmare. Oh sh . . ._ two pairs of hands clawed at him, but he managed to wriggle from the feat. And with a shoulder, shoved the one in the gut and threw a wild punch at the other, which connected with a loud thwack against the jaw.

Something fractured. Either his hand or the man's jaw, it didn't matter. His eyes saw a squirming Richard and red simultaneously, he darted for him in a flailed rush. The tiny scientist crawled over the threshold into the corridor, pudgy fingers reaching for the dark red button next to the door. Flynn dove through just as it closed, collided with the wall in a dull whack. Holding the back of his head with a trembling hand, he struggled with the other to get to his feet. Grunted, as a terrible ache spiked up his left cheek and twitched in his eye. For a moment, he forgot why he was fighting, or what he was fighting. His thoughts jumbled, mind went blank, but then the angry thudding on the other side of the door finally pulled him back to the present.

He was standing now, leaning heavily against the wall.

Richard had already escaped down the corridor, the same direction he stumbled in, with red emergency lights and wailing sirens blaring around him.

"_You needed to see with your own eyes who they are. And why you're gonna fight them."_ Lucy's soft voice echoed in his sphere.

"Yes, that's right, because everyone knows my future except me." He mocked under his breath, went left, and then meters further down he turned right.

"_You ended up on the wrong side of that war."_ She said once more.

"But I just keep right on killing. You know why that is?"

"Cause." Richard faced him with a poised tranquilizer gun. "You know why that is?"

Exhausted, Flynn smirked. "Because it's me."

The first dart missed. So did the second. The giant gained ground. The scientist backed up as quickly as his legs could carry him, but Flynn's stride and height counted against him, and he tripped over his heels, head ricocheting off the glossy floor. The gun fell from Richard's hand, sliding far out of reach, and yet not for the giant who grabbed it, swirled and fired at him in his retreat.

The world blurred about the scientist, faded, to the soft thudding of Flynn's sprinting shoes, followed by a pair of padding bare feet. A redhead streaked by, swift and with ease, and then everything blinked out.


	6. Chapter 6

**SIX**

* * *

With a startle, Flynn sat upright in bed. Sweat beaded his forehead. Long strands of liquid ran down his cheeks and neck while he tried to calm his extensive breathing. His throat burned. He moved to the right, to grab a glass of water, when a fluff of red hair buried beneath the sheets caught his attention. He shuddered, ripping at the sheet and pillow.

Nothing.

Not only were they messing with his memories, they were taunting him in the present. He would never. Flynn stemmed the thought immediately, clasping his damp face with both hands. His fingertips dug deep into his eyes, fighting heartily to keep the idea of her as far away as possible from his mind and memory.

Sirens blared. It was time to go.

He tossed the remainder of the bed sheet aside, swung his long legs over the edge of the bed, clawing his fingertips deep into the mattress, for stability.

Reality? He had to check.

Flynn rushed from the room, straight for the enjoining bathroom. He felt in the dark for the mirror and once he found it, tapped it sharply with a shivering index finger. It sounded dull, echoed loudly in the small space.

Reality. Check.

His heavy breathing evened. He took a large gulp of air, shoulders rising to the bottom of his ears, and then exhaled it little by little, slowly and almost mesmerizingly calming the storm in his body and mind.

Something had to give. Something needed to change. He couldn't keep at this, allowing them to strip away what made him Garcia Flynn. Thankfully, Richard kept to his promise. Lorena and Iris, they were still very much alive in his heart and mind, but a deeper sense of loss accompanied their sweet faces. He couldn't take it, not knowing what it was, since every time he returned, they took something from him. Something profound and life altering. And for the life of him, he couldn't remember what it was or why he would agree to this mission. Which was, supposedly, a gift.

The enemy's gift. Not life or death, but half-alive and half-dead. He was impartial, unfeeling and without remorse. How could he agree to such terms, when intense feeling, powerful emotion, and irrational thought made him who he was? It was Garcia Flynn.

No more.

Who was he then?

The intercom resounded in the main bedroom. The sign he had to move along or they would move him along.

He got dressed in a simple grey sweatshirt and black sweatpants, left the running shoes by the door and entered the glossy beige corridor. No one greeted him. All was very quiet, while he made his way through various corridors leading towards the wardrobe hall.

The grandfather was to be the next target. The one where his younger-self desired, with heart and soul, to blow a room full of people sky high. Ms Preston and Wyatt would meet him below the house, talk some sense, persuade his emotional mind that his reckless heart didn't have to be so . . .

The large observation window overlooking the rolling jungle drew his attention. He stood before its newly replaced glass, knowing he'd been the cause of its repair. Well, he didn't know the exact details perse, he felt in his body and heart, he'd used it as an escape recently. He got far, but obviously not too far. He was still alive and present, regrettably.

With a long index finger, he tapped its surface, smiling waywardly and laughed at himself. Even with stripped memories, he was still a pain in the ass. Good. He had to keep things interesting. Spice it up. Keep them on their toes.

Turning on his heels, he headed for the wardrobe hall, collected the appropriate clothes known for 1954 Washington D.C., collected his preferred weapons for the quick and easy mission, and then headed for the changing room.

* * *

Ms Preston stood waiting at the shuttered window in the other room. Within seconds Garcia would enter and they would begin their dancing tête-à-tête of reason and understanding. There would be heat, anger and more disagreement. More reason on her part. More ridicule on his part. The discussion would lead where it always led – a dead end. Tiresome, vexing and endearing, he supposed.

He should've shot them by now, instead he listened to them squawk on.

"How?" Garcia's low tone reverberated in his chest. "You don't know. 'Cause there is no other way." Silence stretched between them. "Goodbye Lucy."

Slowly Flynn opened the door behind Ms Preston while Garcia moved for the other. He lifted his pistol and fired before the man could open the door. He fell over, with Lucy gasping in terror. She turned on him, blinking rapidly when the large figure sprinted for her, and then pounded her fists against his chest, squirming in his hold.

"Shh, shh, it's okay." Flynn lulled. Still she wrestled wildly for release. "I'm not gonna hurt you."

Lucy relaxed, but only slightly and still overwhelmed by Garcia's quick demise. It wasn't what she had wanted, and yet it dowsed the anxiety burning in her heart that understood the fight was over. That a stranger gunning him down was all it took.

She felt the stranger loosen his hold somewhat, keeping his one hand on her hip, and another, along with the pistol, upon her shoulder. The intimacy scared her, reignited the burning angst in her heart, and neither did his silence help calm her nerves. She looked up at the man scrutinizing her face from up close. His breath tickled her forehead.

The world stopped. Her breath hitched. Her heart raced even more.

"Flynn?"

His surname sounded bittersweet in his ears.

"Why would you?" Lucy fought for more space, which he didn't permit. "You just . . . you just . . . shot him. Why would you shoot him?" Her eyes caught sight of his face, examined every wrinkle, every silver hair in his beard and lastly the lifeless look in his eyes. "You're . . . older."

On their own accord, his hands found her face. She felt the cool grip of the gun press against her temple, gasped for breath when his lips found her forehead.

"You're real."

She didn't know what to say or how to untangle herself from this stranger's heartfelt grip.

"Not a memory, but real. You're really here."

Before Lucy could protest, he retreated with swift speed and trained the pistol on her. Her hands went up instinctively, trembled once she noted the determination in his weary eyes and upon his face. An emotion and expression she hadn't seen on him before. Frankly, neither was the close contact privy to the Garcia Flynn she knew. And besides this anomaly, another inconsistency nagged at her chaotic thoughts.

"You are here, at the same time as he is. Connor and Rufus said it couldn't be done. How then are you here? And nothing's happened? This shouldn't be possible. You're not supposed to be possible."

"Where I'm from, Lucy, nothing is certain."

The bitter anger in his tone made her flinch. She lowered her hands, the world around her barely recognizable, all except for the threadbare man across from her. Whatever the future entailed, their current fight didn't seem to alleviate his grief. Seems it only intensified his hatred for her and Rittenhouse.

The pistol lowered between them.

"I'm not sure I want to know what's certain anymore. Perhaps I should end this once and for all."

"Wait!"

Her outstretched arm gestured to the weapon tapered at his temple. A sob rang out. Flynn shook his head.

"Please, be reasonable, Flynn."

"I'm not him."

"Then who are you? Please help me understand."

"Nothing I say will help you understand. I don't even understand. How can I help you?"

Lucy stepped closer, pausing when the man tilted his head and glared in warning. Silence settled, and she tried another few steps as slowly as possible.

"Don't." He cautioned in a loud growl.

"What's happened, Garcia? Maybe we can fix this."

"How can you, if your version of Garcia Flynn is dead? And so are sixteen others like him. Twelve remain. Thirteen of _you_ still outstanding."

The news caught her by surprise, and yet also helped her to piece together his sudden appearance. Lucy swallowed hard, her throat dry and tongue numb.

"What's your mission?"

"If I should so choose to accept."

The pistol aimed at her again and she quickly held her hands defensively. Fear laced her pupils. A known fear he'd seen so many times before, it no longer signified anything or stimulated any compassion in his heart. All it did was fuel this deranged objective of his. It fuelled courage and a strong sense of desire to carry out what his puppet master required him to do.

Death and more death. She had to die. His third love had to die.

"Death and more death, and no life. That's my mission objective and in a few minutes your soldier-boy Wyatt will burst through that door."

His left hand joined in holding the gun whilst he moved his body in to an attack stance. He could see the desperate plight in her brown eyes. It tore at his heart, but recalling what Lorena and Iris' deaths had done to him, he cried out in agony.

"I love you. I always will."

The open admission surprised her. Flynn pulled the trigger.


	7. Chapter 7

**SEVEN**

* * *

Down below, approximately three blocks away and straight ahead, Ms Preston and Mr Flynn met another atop a platform surrounded by several staircases.

If his counterpart where any the wiser, he would've known empty surroundings represented surveillance. And surveillance led to one thing – capture. But the man trusted her. Why shouldn't he? She saved him.

Flynn adjusted the scope's crosshairs, making sure to keep the wind's bearing in mind, as well as the distance he was sniping from and the velocity the bullet would be traveling at. It had to enter Garcia's heart right at the top, to make sure it went through her heart.

Clean through without fault, and only once. Once was enough.

The moment presented itself, with Garcia carefully taking hold of the journal concealed at his lower back. He handed it over, Ms Preston looking on surprised. Or was it impartial? He couldn't quite tell from this distance, but what did it matter anyway.

He pulled the trigger.

In front of him, the rifle recoiled on the table's wooden surface. His targets toppled over one by one, and he retracted the weapon's stand, folded its butt end towards the grip and magazine. It slid into the duffel bag, when turning to leave he stopped abruptly, with one hand up in surrender.

"You have to stop this."

"How did you-"

"You need to stop this, Flynn."

Titling his head, he noticed the wrinkles around her eyes, the pistol and its silencer, along with the fierce determination upon her face.

"Stop what?" His question imploded in the midst of them.

It scared her but not completely. Lucy took a step closer. "Your mission objective, consider it, thoroughly. If you don't stop this."

"I can't. Can't you see? I am outside of time, to get everything in line."

"No, you've become numb and mindless. You can't discern right from wrong. If you did, you would."

"Stop this! I know. I heard you the first time."

He stepped towards her, daring her to show her hand. Surprisingly she didn't waver. The safety clicked off. He smirked waywardly.

"Why are you here, Lucy? It only means I missed a step somewhere along the line. I will course correct. This assignment will be successful."

"You don't even know what you're fighting for, Flynn!"

"What are _you_ fighting for? A lost cause? Pain and more pain! That's a lost cause. It has no meaning, just like a cycle has no beginning or end."

"And yours do? Mindlessly killing yourself time after time? Only you can see the irrational purpose. What does it result in? Does it alleviate the deep wound festering in your heart?"

"You have no idea, do you? You know nothing! You're simply another traveller outside of time. My time!"

Flynn growled, moving to grab his pistol from its holster. Lucy fired off a warning shot, stopping him before he could carry out his feat.

"I am the truth, and you are the lie."

"In this, I am the light."

"Your light is darkness."

Her statement exploded inside his mind, eliciting confusion and a terrible headache. He held a hand to his head. His time was running out, which meant so did hers. The question was. Who had the bravado to hold out 'till the last hour? For it wasn't his first trip, a thought that barely registered, but was it hers?

"What are you doing here, Lucy?"

"Nothing prevents me from ending this pursuit of yours."

The blatant declaration caught him off guard. Flynn glared at her, trying to discern the bluff from reality. Her eyes showed none, nor did her posture reveal doubt or any remorse towards the proposed threat. She had nothing to lose. Sadly though, he had everything to lose and it scared him, since Lucy Preston had finally surpassed a threshold he seemed to justify repeatedly.

"You're bluffing."

Lucy aimed at his feet. A shot rang out, missing them by fractions. He gaped at her, shocked. "A warning." She whispered.

"What do you want me to say? You're prolonging."

"I'm giving you the opportunity to dig deep inside your mind, to try and remember who the real enemy is. I'm trying-"

"And failing to get your message across, because you don't really know what it is I'm doing. Is not saving lives, but taking them for the sake of restoring time and space back to its original state."

"By killing us!"

"By ending us!"

Flynn and Lucy's breathing echoed loudly within the empty room.

Tears filled her eyes. His were teary as well.

She paced within the doorway, with pistol hanging by her side and one hand stroking her forehead. He watched her, too tired and in agony, to make a move now that she was vulnerable.

"It doesn't make sense, Flynn. None of it does." She said after a while. "You don't just agree-"

"As I recall, it didn't take much to go back in time, and rid the world of Rittenhouse. With all said and done, it took all I had to get here. And I'm not gonna allow you to put an end to it." Lucy stopped pacing and focussed on him just as he aimed his pistol at her. "Not when I'm so close."

"I am the last!" She yelled out before he could shoot. "Killing me will make your mission null and void."

Flynn shook his head, not believing her plea.

"You can't, Flynn. The more of me you kill, the more aware I become of my destiny."

"It's a trick."

"Why do you think your headaches are intensifying? The branching timelines are lessening, putting a strain on the original timeline."

"You're lying."

"Garcia's experiencing the same thing."

"Stop it!" Flynn growled at her.

The duffle bag fell from his fingers as he grabbed his head with both hands. His thoughts blurred, blinked out for a few seconds before they became coherent again. "They will know. You have to stop!"

"They?"

"No."

"Flynn!"

"No! I can't. I don't want to lose them."

"Lose who?"

"My memories." He fell to his knees, groaning in sorrow. "Lorena, Iris. I don't want to lose them. I can't lose them."

The defining moment presented itself, and Lucy stepped up to him and placed the pistol against his forehead she knew ached in pain. Hers, too, throbbed profusely, but this – it had to be done. She couldn't allow him to carry on with this ridiculous ploy and then survive with so much agony and confusion. It wasn't a life worth living. No one deserved such a terrible life.

"You can't. Not even now. Not even after so many years of chasing Rittenhouse, can you eliminate a threat to your timeline. It's all that I am. A threat. A bug in the system you have to squash." He grabbed hold of her wrist. "Why can't you squash me, Lucy? Is it your humanity? Your love, compassion, and mercy? What is it that hesitates? Your mind or your heart? There's nothing that binds you to me. End it!"

She startled at his fierce command.

"Or I will." He concluded in a low tone, stood, still holding her wrist, then redirected the pistol to his heart.

Lucy gazed at him with shock and tears in her eyes, looking on helplessly as Flynn ripped the weapon from her hand with his free hand.

"See? Words are words waiting to become a reality. Your words are simply empty promises. A means to an end. With no action to back them up. Therefore you can't follow through on your mission, because your mind and your heart's in the way. Not I."

"You've stripped your memories?"

He nodded.

"You don't feel."

Flynn shook his head.

"Your mission is all that counts. No thought. No memory. No remorse. The perfect drone."

Fire lit up his green eyes. She recoiled, though he kept her close to him. "Now you're catching up, my dear Lucy."

She gave him an intense glare, closing the small gap between them, and then narrowed her eyes. He swallowed profoundly, knowing she noticed the slight waver in his eyes.

"One problem though." Lucy whispered. "Why do your family still exist within your heart and mind? I think it's to remind you of what it is that makes you human. And the one person who understood your weakness and vulnerability, you've extracted from your memory, to hide their importance. Otherwise, this senseless killing couldn't be possible. Your destiny couldn't be possible. Why?"

She smiled cunningly. He managed a half-hearted one.

"You have no destiny."

A long, thin blade pierced Flynn's side. He gasped, recoiling against the sharp shrill pain as it dug deeper into his body.

* * *

**\- END OF PART ONE -**


	8. Chapter 8

** \- PART TWO -**

* * *

Down below, roughly three blocks away and straight ahead, Lucy and Garcia met another on top a platform surrounded by several staircases.

Flynn adjusted the scope's crosshairs, making sure the wind was in his favour, as well as the distance, and the velocity the bullet would be traveling at. It had to enter Garcia's heart, to ensure it went through her heart.

Clean through and only once. It was all he needed, to make this end smoothly.

Garcia grabbed the journal concealed at his lower back, then handed it over, with Lucy looking on intrigued. Or was it sceptical? He couldn't quite tell from this distance, but it didn't concern him what she felt or thought any longer. His finger curled around the trigger, began to squeeze when he felt a shrilling pain in his side. It tore over his ribcage, with instincts reminding him someone would soon appear at the doorway.

He kept his attention straight ahead, but he had missed the ideal moment.

Below, Agent Christopher's men arrested Garcia, the man showing his displeasure with low growls and threatening declarations aimed at Lucy Preston who seemed just as confused as he appeared.

Flynn slammed a fist atop the table, retracted the rifle from its perch, stowed it away within the depths of the duffel bag, but then stopped.

Something needed to happen, his heart and body discerned it, but his mind did not. Yes, he felt a definite emotion, a kink in the timeline, an anomaly he couldn't quite place.

Something had happened in this room not too long ago.

He looked to the doorway and found it empty.

Someone had ambushed him. Yes, and a heated conversation followed thereafter. This person, he or she, weren't here at the moment. He had to keep moving and find another way to fulfil the mission, even if it meant returning here, or dealing with the problem in another timeline. Perhaps even complete two in one go, but it wouldn't be possible.

Flynn walked for the door and made his way towards the elevator.

"You were distracted."

The familiar voice had echoed inside an empty room across from the elevator, causing him to scowl bewildered.

"Muscle memory works wonders." The voice said. "Phantom pains."

"Show yourself." He demanded, aiming his pistol at the empty space before the room. Damn, his head hurt. His side, too. Even his heart ached.

"Let's see." An older version of Lucy Preston stepped out into the corridor. "First it was the heart, then the head. Always the heart and the head. Such precision, to minimize the pain and effort not only for them, but for you, too." She held her index finger for him to see. "Still, one made you hesitate. Used her to find the needle in the haystack; the primary driving force behind such a heinous crime. You agree?"

Lucy faced him. Lowered her hand. Smiled gently, but it soon faded.

"But it wasn't enough." Another voice, deeper this time, said. "Reasoning with her, couldn't convince you to stop. No, you had to continue doing what you were doing. Since you were made to believe there was no other way."

"There is no other way." Flynn said weakly.

"Haa, but there is."

Lucy watched Garcia walk from the room. He stood behind her and grinned.

"You were too blind to see it." Garcia continued. "Too caught up in your grief, to see another way to solve the problem. So you went to the sole person who not only needed your expertise, but also shared the same hatred for what happened with your timeline."

"Richard." He agreed dejected.

"And Emma." Lucy said.

Flynn stroked his forehead with the pistol before dropping it to his side. "He was convinced his method of time traveling surpassed the rules and boundaries held in place by physics. And Emma, she wanted another crack at fulfilling her true role as a Rittenhouse spy. Even if it meant aligning herself with me."

"She used you as a messenger."

"While you wilfully submitted your memories for alteration." She explained. "You wanted to forget. As it was the only way you could fulfil your ultimate assignment."

"No remorse. No feeling. Everything you and I are, you deafened so that you could kill us and eliminate us from the equation."

"You didn't realize, with every time jump and murder you completed, you altered our destiny to one primary future. A definite future, where we know our end without question and without waver."

"No-no. No, for every action there is a reaction. For every decision, there are multiple opportunities that branch into four separate futures, at a minimum."

"But there will always be one journey, one destiny that goads you back to the original. The one you should've stuck by if it weren't for people, life and circumstances that forced you to veer from that destined course. They would all, like a river, drain into one large reservoir and realign you with the only other outlet available. One destiny, with a single conclusion."

"Death, which has no set time or place." Garcia clarified.

"Birth, which has no set time or place." Lucy added.

Flynn narrowed his eyes, thinking for a little bit. "And what takes place in between will always be pliable. To do with whatever we wished."

"No one can predict their lifespan from beginning to end."

"Nor can a person have a definite plan for it, and follow it precisely. There will be something or someone that influences it to change, slightly or drastically, either for good or for bad. Like any other thing, it's up for debate."

"So what I'm doing is useless?" Flynn asked of them. "It's just an endless cycle which will turn where it needs to turn and go where it needs to go. Nothing will change the proposed outcome. All I'm doing is merely stemming it while creating more possible and diverse destinies."

"Yes." They both answered.

"But I'm forcing you." With the weapon, Flynn gestured at them. "To a single conclusion in life, by eliminating the other divergent timelines from existence. You have to follow my plan and my strategy, to outlive me – together as a team – your final future, which cannot be changed. And since any other possible decision will be stripped away, you have to take my road, my path, and my journey. You have to."

"Nothing and no person can interfere with another person's walk in life."

"Because no one can guarantee a perfect life, without any complication, or even control them to follow a set outcome, as they intend them to."

"Because mankind has always had freewill, to do as they will with whatever they have in their possession."

"And neither are we God."


	9. Chapter 9

**NINE**

* * *

Flynn stumbled from the Mothership, covered a few meters before he fell to his knees. His head pounded with explosive throbs, provoked nausea to the point of collapsing from the tremendous discomfort.

"What the hell?" Richard screamed from behind. "You know staying longer than twenty-four hours can and will eventually kill you. No man, no human can survive that amount of agony and pain. The pressure from the colliding timelines alone will obliterate you from existence. And the closer you get to the original, the more strain you'll undergo, the less the time will be."

"You said." Flynn began through gritted teeth. He crawled forward on all fours. "You said."

"I said what!" The scientist shrieked after him. "What did I say? I explicitly told you to watch the time. In and out! It's that simple. Dammit, even a gorilla can understand such a simple task. But no, I got you. I got you for heaven's sake."

"They were there." Flynn barely managed. "Both of 'em."

"What the hell are you on about?"

Richard came from behind and shoved him off-balance. He fell onto his back, holding his face with both hands. His body felt like it was dying from within. Angst and anxiety sped up his heartbeat. The air suddenly thin, as his breathing became laboured.

"Who?"

Flynn yelled out in panic.

"Get them down here. STAT!" The scientist demanded over the radio, then gazed down at the panicking spy. "Who did you see, Garcia?" He pressed again in a low, drawn-out snarl. "Who. Did. You. See?"

A prettified shout reverberated throughout the warehouse.

The double doors whooshed open.

Richard threw his hands up in frustration. "Ugh, just get him up. And get him where he needs to go. Let's see what the hissy fit's all about."

The two burly men did as instructed and dragged Flynn from the room, straight for reconditioning five floors below the warehouse. In the whitewashed room, they laid him down on the cot, then walked away.

Opening his eyes, the spy looked about the empty space. A shock trembled over his frame, gooseflesh kissed his skin, ran along with the tremble in his muscles.

Again something was amiss; couldn't pin it down. Chaos reigned and so did a blur of clashing memories, some of which didn't belong to him while others proposed various futures he knew for a fact wasn't his.

"Or perhaps you want something to be amiss." Her voice sounded low but sweet and tender. "Seeking it, you will find. Wanting it to happen will make it happen. Only you can stop this insane plan, Flynn."

He closed his eyes and shook his head. A tear ran down his cheek. The emotions were too much to handle, too much to get in line.

"Nah, nah, nah, my friend, Garcia. My dear, old friend, Flynn will not and I stress the _not_, he will not, under any circumstances . . . stop. Protocol stipulates, that under duress a soldier's to rely upon his or her training, at all times. Time after time, line upon line, precept upon precept."

"Slow and steady wins the race?"

"Yes, my dearest Lucy." His counterpart smiled sweetly at her. She received it openly with a cheeky smirk.

"Stop!" Flynn yelled out desperately. A sob rang out. "Stop!"

"We haven't done anything yet." Richard said from the other side of the mirror.

"When you fall, I will catch you." Garcia directed at Lucy.

"Yes. A promise."

"No!" Flynn screamed at them.

"Don't make me sedate you, Garcia!" The scientist warned.

Lucy stood before the two-way mirror, dressed in a delicate, colourful summer dress. His counterpart crossed his arms, causing the black shirt to stretch over his muscled shoulders and back.

"He's bossy."

"Sure is."

"One more minute and you'll forget this ever happened."

Flynn squeezed his tall frame into a tight ball. He snarled with deep-seated pain, an aching crescendo which ended in a high pitch. Exhaustion threatened to claim him for many more hours of dreadful nightmares, the last thing he wanted or needed. What he wanted he could not have, nor would peace and rest be a well-earned reward for his weary mind and body.

"Why?"

"I have no idea, Lucy. But I always did enjoy torturing myself."

"That you did." She agreed playfully. "I didn't."

Garcia snorted. "Yes, you did. Be truthful. You didn't enjoy seeing me this way. You did, however, succumb to your own little torture sessions. All the good, bad and ugly you saw on missions. Why put yourself through the same misery at every closed time loop."

"It's the darn loop." Flynn whispered. "Where?"

"What?" Richard's voice boomed through the intercom. "You say something?"

"He definitely did." Lucy said at the mirror.

"Shh, quiet, Lu, you don't want the big bad scientist knowing what we know."

"He's figured it out." She waved at Flynn painfully aware of his slipup.

"Yeah, still, we don't want to be planting any silly ideas in his mind."

"Well, it's too late for that, now is it?"

"I suppose so."

"Stop it! Just stop it!"

"Shout at me one more time, and I'll put your sorry ass in isolation. No light. Remember, Garcia? Only darkness."

"Are you gonna take this bullshit to the forehead?"

"Shame, he's in real pain."

The couple stood on each side of the cot, staring down at him, one with compassion and another daringly.

"No strength." Flynn murmured through spasms. "Tired."

"The man's lost his mind, sweetheart. He can't discern reality any longer."

"Still, he knows we're not really here."

"Of course. Richard's lack of response is the obvious tell-tale. Out in the field though, he can't distinguish what's the real us from the fake us."

Initiating eye contact, first with Garcia and then with Lucy, Flynn winced.

"Aw, he's hurting."

"Profoundly so. We can't help him."

"He needs to find a way out of the maze by himself."

The couple's appearance flickered once, twice and then they were gone. His mind cleared. Body relaxed.

"There ya go. All done and ready for the next impartation."

Although exhausted, Flynn sat upright and breathed through the faint muscles spasms cramping in his legs. Overall he felt like jelly, ignorant to the internal fight he underwent since before his return.

"Now." Richard began. "What's the fuss? Who did you see? 'Cause I sure didn't see anything but a successful mission. Nice going, pal."

"I completed the mission?"

"One heck of a shot. Two birds."

"One bullet."

"See, got your eggs in one basket."

"Who did I see?"

"No clue. I found no memory of any secondaries. Only the shooting."

"I don't understand."

"You don't need to understand. Just keep on doing what we expect you to do and everything will work as planned."

Flynn looked over his shoulder, knowing the man hid behind the mirror for a reason and smirked wickedly. "Then why do I detect apprehension and frustration in your voice? Don't tell me you believe my insane observation?"

"One can never be too careful. You were gone far past your time limit."

"Impossible."

"It happened. And I made sure it will not happen again."

Standing, Flynn came about and walked for the mirror. His eyes narrowed, piercing whatever fortitude he imagined the scientist cowered behind.

"Puppies you train well, to avoid misfortunes in the future. So that you avoid old dogs which need to be taught good manners and new tricks. But sadly for you, Richard, you fail to realize you got a wolf in its place."

Retracting his fist, he knocked it hard against the mirror's surface.

It cracked like a rock hitting water, splayed in differing directions exposing its quick loss in integrity. Richard retreated on impact, with hand hovering above the red button on the console beside him.

"No one can be trusted." Flynn cautioned and walked away.


	10. Chapter 10

**TEN**

* * *

The familiar golden elevator opened before him, with a short figure shoving a pistol against his forehead and pushed him back, while another weapon collided against the back of his head. Pinned between foe and foe, Flynn snarled under his breath.

"What the shit is going on?"

"Destiny."

"We agreed he has no destiny." Lucy admonished.

"How about you both go back to where you came from. Or better yet – go to the deepest, darkest cesspool you can find and crawl back into it."

"Now, now, Flynn, we are a part of you, why the separation effort?"

"None of you exist. Dead! Gone with the wind! Pushing up daisies! I saw it. I did it. You are not real. Get out of my way." He barked at Lucy standing before him smirking uncannily.

"Now, that is no way to talk to the love of your life."

Flynn scoffed loudly, irritated by his counterpart's attempted ruse. He shoved back, knocking the man off-balance, ripped Lucy's pistol from her grip, stepped away from the faltering couple and directed the gun at her, then aimed it at Garcia.

"How many times are we gonna play these idiotic mind games before you realize it's a bust?"

"We're not the ones trapped on the same level."

"What?"

"You've been around this bend a couple of times."

"No." He denied fervently.

"I'm afraid so, Flynn."

"No."

"Saying it won't make this go away."

"It's impossible."

"Now you're simply stating it differently."

"I haven't been here. You're mistaken."

"One." Garcia uncurled an index finger.

"Shot us with one perfectly timed bullet." Lucy replied.

Garcia flicked his middle finger. "Two."

"I stabbed you."

"Three." He wiggled his thumb.

"Missed the optune moment."

"Four."

"We shared a momentary yet very insightful discussion about the future."

"Five."

"We followed you home."

"Six."

"You shot us, one bullet each, from this very building."

"Seven."

Lucy frowned at his counterpart, her forehead crinkling with confusion. "There is no seven, darling."

"Oh yes. Still needs to happen."

"What needs to happen?" Flynn asked annoyed, then primed the weapon on her and queried more forcefully. "What needs to happen?"

"That." Garcia pointed out.

Flynn scowled his puzzlement before he felt the liquid running from his nose. He wiped at it with the back of his hand. It was bloody and dark. A shriek, shrill pain slithered all the way from the nape of his neck over to his forehead and lodged at his temples. His head pounded in his ears. It became heavy like an oil tanker and then pressurized, close to popping like a lid off a glass bottle. He felt light-headed.

"We should." Lucy canted her head at Flynn who struggled to keep himself from toppling. She hailed the elevator.

"Yes we probably should."

Garcia stabilized his left side whilst she stabilized his right side. Together they hauled him into the contraption.

All went dark.

* * *

"You completed the mission. They're dead, both of them."

"It's the same mission!"

"No, you took them out on the way over to some blues gathering."

"From an empty apartment?"

"From a hill. Garcia, focus on the present. It doesn't matter when or where, as long as you finish your objective."

"I'm trying to understand why I keep ending up at the same apartment, having gunned them down on those damn steps."

"You don't need to understand. Just do what's expected and everything will work out as planned."

Flynn looked over his shoulder, knowing the man hid behind the mirror, and frowned. The wording seemed familiar and so did this precise moment. "Then why do I detect apprehension and frustration in your voice? Don't tell me you believe my insane prying?"

"You arrived here far past your time limit. Your nose was bloody. You coughed up blood."

"Impossible."

"It happened. And I've made sure it will not happen again."

Flynn came about and walked for the mirror. His eyes narrowed, piercing whatever shield he imagined the scientist cowered behind. Retracting his fist, he knocked it hard against the mirror's surface. It cracked, splaying in differing directions exposing its weak point. Richard retreated on impact, with hand hovering above the red button on the console.

"A bloodhound can trace the finest of scents. Can detect a hare miles away. Don't think you're invulnerable. Look at what a well-placed strike can do to a pristine surface. I will find the anomaly. I will break this spell."

"There is no spell, Garcia. Your mind's the only trickster, the only deception preventing you from acknowledging the truth. You are at the primary's doorstep. Five more knocks and you're there."

"No one can be trusted." Flynn warned and walked for the door.

* * *

He stroked his forehead with the pistol before dropping it to his side. "Richard was convinced his method of time traveling surpassed the rules and boundaries held in place by physics. And Emma, she wanted another crack at fulfilling her true role as a Rittenhouse spy. Even if it meant forming an alliance with the enemy."

"Do you see, Flynn? I've given you the opportunity to dig deep, to try and remember who the real enemy is. I'm trying-"

"And failing to get your message across, Lucy, because you don't really know what it is I'm doing. Is not saving lives, but taking them for the sake of restoring time and space back to its original state."

"It doesn't make sense, Flynn. None of it does. You don't just agree-"

Flynn shook his head, not believing her reasoning.

"You can't keep doing this. The more you kill, the more aware we become of our destinies. The more aware you become of this loop you can't seem to break. You no longer can distinguish illusion from reality."

"And are you real, Lucy? This version of you, are you real? Is this apartment real? Those replicas I shot, were they real, too? Or is everything I touch . . . illusionary? A means for my mind to fill the gaps stolen by my so-called friends?"

He poised his pistol and walked for her. She didn't flinch or move or try to reason. She allowed him to place it against her shoulder, barely moved by the surprise on his face when he backed away.

"You're here?"

"And you are not?"

"Don't. Be frank."

"You were always the heart on the sleeve type of man. I was just forced to adjust as we went along."

"Forced? You were forced? Darling you have no idea what forced is."

"Let me guess." Lucy smirked. "I'm looking at it."

She stepped forward, positioning a hand upon each shoulder. He frowned, too puzzled to decipher what she wanted or stood here for, trying to convince a mad man from being anything other than insane.

"What's your purpose?" He asked under his breath.

"My prerogative?"

"Your aim, goal, objective. To provoke so much pain and confusion, it will finally deter me from doing what I think is right and true to soothe my heartache and pain?"

"How can I? If I already know I am the reason for everything you hold dear and have lost. If only I'd allowed you to kill that innocent boy."

"He wasn't innocent. He was just as culpable as his father was. That night, everything could've changed. But you, you stopped me. I could have ended this. Rittenhouse would be buried and lost with the ages." Flynn shoved her away and gestured at her. "My family would've been alive right now if it weren't for your meddling. You are the reason I am who I am."

"You are still at fault, Garcia." She rebuked.

"No, I am realistic. And you are the one who keeps interfering. You are there at the beginning. You are there at the end. I can't get rid of you, Lucy. You are everywhere I go and in everything I do. An intoxicating drug my mind and heart can't shake loose. Even dead and buried, you haunt my dreams."

"So these senseless assassinations – it's the only way you can eliminate me from your memory?"

"You are poisonous. This is the antidote. Now get out of my way before I rid myself of the source."

"I can't let you do that."

Lucy whistled, with Rufus and Wyatt emerging from underneath discarded blankets, caught the spy from behind, and subdued him just as swiftly.

"Thank goodness." Rufus sighed. "My sinuses were acting up."

"Yeah, couldn't take much more of his yammering. Seriously, all this trouble for a cracked mind?" Lucy scowled at Wyatt. He raised a hand in defence. "Therapy is all am saying."

* * *

"Nothing."

"Nope. Nada thing."

Flynn halted before the two-way mirror, with brow creased in a heavy furrow. He stroked his forehead. "I could've sworn."

"Garcia, this is the fifth time you repeated the same line of questioning. Tomorrow will place you at the heart of Chinatown, where your counterpart will chase after Lucy, to protect her from Emma. It's imperative you focus on what's important and stop with these idiotic pleas."

"They're not idiotic, Richard."

"My mistake."

"They are real experiences, with the same building repeating itself for the sake of deterring me. Why?"

"Your subconscious mind retaliating. How the hell should I know?"

"You're the doctor."

"Different kind of doctor."

"Yes, my mistake."

"It is."

"Don't patronize me, Dick."

"And don't you dare put me at fault." Richard growled. "See this for what it is."

"And what's that?" Flynn boomed at the mirror. "Mm? Midlife crisis? Doubt? Fear? You rebuke me, but you're the one cowering behind an imaginary shield. You're the gutless, spineless worm who tricked me into believing I made a difference." Laughter bubbled in his chest. "Some difference. And they call me the crazy one. I like to think I'm the only person who makes sense. Who has a clue, that even my subconscious mind knows this is useless. And that you are the manipulator, the ambitious pinhead who sought glory and fame from the onset. I'm a science experiment. A sucker for punishment!"

"Revolutionary." Richard replied lowly.

"There's nothing ground-breaking about this insane plot. You're a blind fool, Richard! And I was just too blind to see that I'm dead either way." Outraged, Flynn threw his hands up. "So finish your experiment and send me on my lovely way." He turned his back on the mirror. "All said and done, what am I to do? Yeah? All ends well."


	11. Chapter 11

**ELEVEN**

* * *

The air was filthy. Thick layers of dust covered the wooden floors. The sound of heels striking its dull surface echoed in the abandoned building.

Flynn leaned on the cane while the Rapier sword nestled in the grip of his right hand, when finally snapping bullets signalled Emma's retreat.

She crossed the threshold of his blade. Down on her knees, he glimpsed the sight of surprise and confusion on her face, then she fell forward, sobbing from the burning sensation running across her abdomen.

She was bleeding out.

He ignored the scene and gazed off to his left the same time his counterpart took Lucy in his arms and cried with her.

Dead mother, grandfather, lost sister – how much loss could one person undergo before they snapped? And yet she concluded it was a timeline worth reliving over and over again. And as per usual, her future-self didn't depict the misery and pain and heartache one woman would face up until the point where it consumed her. She left out all the sad parts, the terrifying parts, the deranged killer whom she chased after for a year, until she realized it was the other way around. So much misery, how could someone believe in a cause which would redo its steps with no real end in sight.

This timeline ended with his death and a glorious victory for the team. They had a future, and what a future it would be.

Beside him, Emma sighed her last breath. He walked forward unperturbed.

"Give me one reason why I shouldn't run this blade through you."

Garcia gazed at him shocked. Lucy couldn't stop crying.

"Every death was so spectacular, but I never gave you a moment to beg for mercy. Did I? Tell me. Why are you worthy enough to live?"

With a shaky hand, Garcia grabbed the pistol Lucy had dropped earlier and aimed it at him.

Flynn laughed. "That's the spirit."

"Who are you?"

"Rule One. A time traveller never tells."

The gun faltered in Garcia's right hand. Blood dripped from the fingertips of his left hand.

"Can't be."

Flynn's demeanour changed. He glared at his counterpart, challenging him to defend his precious Lucy and his life. "Not the first one to point out the obvious. Come on! I'm here, get over it. It can be done."

Lucy sat up; appreciative Garcia still guarded her from the unexpected visitor who accomplished what she could not. Emma was dead, but it didn't appease the sorrow in her heart. She wiped at her tears.

"I buried the lead." Flynn said as he watched her intently.

Behind her, Garcia stood haphazardly, with weapon still primed in his direction. The man had courage, he granted him that, and yet he was in no condition to defend what he saw as costly. She wasn't worth the rejection to follow.

"It was for neither one of you, I'm sorry. But this mission had one target in mind and that was to rid myself of my own misery." He lifted the Rapier and gestured between them. "You're not worth your salt. You don't even deserve each other." Looking at Garcia, he lowered the sword. "You will always be at a disadvantage, so do yourself and your ego a favour, and walk away."

Bewildered, the couple stared at one another, Garcia holding a hand for her to take, helped her up and then gradually moved her to stand to his rear.

"Trust." Flynn began. "Trust happens when honesty rules the relationship. You agree?"

"What do you want?"

"Set things straight. Give you the opportunity to do what I couldn't. Come." For a second time Flynn shoved the blade at Garcia before directing it towards Lucy. "The truth works wonders. Tell her."

"Tell her what?" Garcia asked dubiously but knowingly.

Lucy gazed between the men, her brow furrowing in puzzlement. She was still shocked, still too emotional to make head or tail in this strange conversation.

"Don't play dumb." Flynn chided.

"Why are you here?" Lucy blurted out. She composed herself, found her courage and voice, then demanded. "Explain yourself."

"Me or him? Lucy, you will have to be more specific about how you feel, and say what you truly mean. It's rather confusing at times."

"Have some respect, she just lost her mother."

"She'll get over it."

Garcia growled, stepping forward with pistol aimed at him and shot off a round. Flynn stood unperturbed, the bullet having nicked the side of his shoulder, and smirked defiantly.

"We never did temper that temper of ours, did we?"

Stepping forward, the sword sliced the air and knocked the pistol from Garcia's hand. Flynn stopped the man in his tracks, the blade's tip close to piercing his neck. Garcia showed his disapproval with a heated glare while Lucy stumbled after the discarded gun, but when she reached for it, Flynn shot at the barrel before her. Her hands went up instinctively. Garcia pushed against the blade, then halted. Blood flowed down his throat.

"The effort I applaud. Your tenacity I admire. But your execution lacks confidence and unity." Flynn grimaced. "The trust, it's just not there . . . yet."

"What's your objective?" Lucy asked.

"And how many times have you asked me the same question? It's irritating and straightforward, any jackass can decipher my reason for being. Dammit, Lucy, how many times are you gonna walk into the same trap? The same war . . . repeatedly? Endure the same pain? For what? Redemption and pride. 'We have to do what's right. We have to rid the world of Rittenhouse. They are a cancer'. You're the cancer, sweetheart."

"Watch your tongue."

"I'm not the one with a blade to my throat. Be quiet and listen carefully. This might save you." His eyes glimpsed movement to the right. He gave her another warning shot.

"Come on, Flynn!" She shouted in return.

"I am serious and in no mood to play the mediator. So listen up! I'll say this only once!" Flynn tugged at his bowtie, loosening the shirt's taught collar. He held the pistol on her again, then looked at Garcia snarling his anger and displeasure. "Hmm, so that's what a ticked off lion looks like."

* * *

"Honey, I'm home."

Flynn stepped from the Mothership, with two passengers in tow. He gazed over his shoulder, smirking ecstatically.

"No worries; they're just a little shy."

A dozen armed guards emerged from their hiding places, charging upon their location quicker than he wanted. Flynn's hands went up, as well as Lucy and Garcia following the same gesture.

"Or not." He beckoned at the lead soldier. "The welcoming mat. Hey Logan."

"Wyatt's here?"

"Rufus, too." A man whined from their left. "C'mon, where he goes I goes."

"What's going on?" Garcia asked with hands lowering to his sides, eyeing the lead soldier remove his helmet and mask. Wyatt was older, bulkier, and less of a hotshot. Even Rufus showed signs of aging and maturity. All-in-all, they looked like they'd been through the trenches and back.

"Welcome to the end."

Rufus scowled at Flynn. "Dramatic."

"Thank you."

"Pleasantries done? Let's get a move on."

Bowing theatrically, Flynn gestured at Wyatt Logan to carry on.

The soldier signalled at the remaining guards to move out. "Cover the ship, scour the field, and cover any traces of our arrival." He gestured to the small group before him. "Rufus and Flynn cover our rear. You and you, follow me. Lucy's waiting."

"I am?"

"She is."

"The young one – still too ignorant to understand."

"The young one can hear you." Lucy scoffed at Rufus trailing to her rear.

"So can the other Garcia." Said man walked in Wyatt's tread, quickening his pace to keep up with him. "Since my salient self didn't care to explain this little side trip. You still need to answer my question, grunt."

"He's not with us." He replied curtly.

"Then who is he with?"

"Don't know and don't care. My Lucy thinks he's important. He thinks you are."

"And what do you think?"

Wyatt stopped, allowing Garcia to move by him, and then let out an irritated sigh. "I'm not paid to pay attention."

"It's true." Flynn concurred, patting the soldier on the back. "He doesn't." He moved to guard their rear once more.

"He really doesn't." Rufus said over his shoulder. "He does however know how to gather elite soldiers for a revolution."

"Revolution?"

"Heard correctly, Lu." The geek replied, moving her along.

"Viva baby!"

"Viva!"

"Against what? Against who? And where are we?"

Wyatt ignored Garcia's questions, then glared at the older Flynn for not informing his younger version about his true motive. The man simply shrugged, urging him on to lead them away from the danger zone.

As a unit, they meandered via the dark forest path.

"Where we are. Who we are. What we're doing. None of the remaining timelines has this moment. We are officially outside the time space continuum."

"Like a dead zone?" Lucy queried.

"Doesn't exist zone." Rufus half corrected.

"That even possible?" Garcia asked of Wyatt. "And you believe him? He's lost his mind."

"You do realize you are talking about yourself." Flynn murmured from behind the group. "Frightening, knowing what you can become. Isn't it?"

"All of you are." The man griped in return.

"And he takes the exception."

"Why did we need him again?" The geek queried.

"I could've left her behind. He was the only one missing from the equation, and you know I can't stay in one place for long."

"Take 'em back then." Wyatt offered before entering the underground sewer.

The group followed silently for a short while, navigating the maze of tunnels behind their leader.

"My choices were limited." Flynn said.

"Yeah, because you killed all the others." Rufus chided.

"If only you'd shown up earlier, I would've had the cream of the crop. In retrospect, this _is_ your fault."

"Your mind's at fault." Garcia griped.

"Wait. We're humanity's last hope."

The group snickered, amused by the geek's timely phrase.

"I'll be back." He teased in his best Arnie impression.

"Yeah, he was." Wyatt snorted, quickened his pace towards the dead-end, and then stopped. "Speaking of which." He motioned with the rifle at Flynn standing at the back. "Yo, big guy. Time's up!"


	12. Chapter 12

**TWELVE**

* * *

The wild, Wild West.

It was hot, the village even hotter, and the town's folks unamused with the line of strangers who entered their town. It would be the perfect showdown, to disrupt their mission before it began, but it seemed redundant and overkill, to stop this team from achieving success.

Did he want them to succeed? It was the obvious question.

Was he supposed to let them live? An even better question.

Would he have had enjoyed the exchange between his former-self and Lucy outside of town? Not a clue.

He did however understand the import of his own mission. Whether he killed them or not, a couple would survive this killing jaunt of his.

He needed to have a report for his superior, lie if needed, that the last of the branching timelines no longer existed.

Success?

So they would be led to believe.

Or not.

Flynn scratched at his chin.

He was making this job way too complicated. Infiltrate and then vanish, leaving the original timeline in the hands of those living in the zone which didn't exist. Easy.

They would take charge, while he took charge of things back home. Richard would never see the deceit coming and neither would Emma. He would eliminate the threat. The older Lucy and her compadres would certify everything worked out as planned according to the original Lucy's plan. And once it happened, his deranged timeline would disappear. All would be well again, as if his relentless assassinations never happened.

Everything seemed redundant.

All the effort appeared redundant, but Lucy 2.0 assured his meaningless existence had merit. Taking care of his and her twins, leaving the rest of the team unscathed, it guaranteed no other duplicate interfered with ground zero. It guaranteed no interference period. Still made no sense, but to the one who understood, he was grateful she was in charge.

He tugged at the rim of the black hat. He always wanted to be a cowboy.

Flynn smiled.

He'd been cowboy a few times in the last several months.

He gaged the ladies of the group emerge in their newly exchanged attire, to appear like one of the boys. He tugged the reins in the opposite direction, urging the black stallion towards the location the team were destined to use as a respite.

* * *

"It's a bad plan."

"It's a good plan."

"It's sad."

"It's logical."

"Radical."

"Desperate."

"Erratic."

"But possible."

"All I'm saying. For the record." Garcia raised his hands, stemming any attempt at disapproval by the others, then circled the rickety table for a third time. "We need to consider that this might backfire. He's not stable." He pointed at the older Lucy illumined by the single light fixture inside the dark, stale room. "You let loose a wolf without a leash. He needs one."

She glared at him from across the table. "A distraction. This is what we agreed upon."

"By making him think his killing spree is right and not wrong and immoral."

"To be frank." Wyatt intervened. "He's a killer in every timeline."

"I am yes. Can also mean there's one where it's the exception."

"You think his timeline was the exception?" Rufus asked, placing his feet upon the edge of the table. He leaned back in the chair and crossed his arms.

"Yes, I do."

"No, a person doesn't start off innocently. Killing without a real purpose, it's even more absurd than believing everything will return to normal after eliminating the same target repeatedly. He's the worst of the lot."

"This is me you're discussing." Garcia eyed Wyatt. "Insulting."

"You made him believe, no, you convinced him. You convinced him his mission was and always has been destiny. I think, no, I know there's a better way. A humane way. If Lucy. If _I _could convince him."

"We've been the problem so far, honey." Older Lucy stipulated. "We gave him a reason to avenge his family. We used his hurt to unleash a chain of events we sadly must keep repeating. If it means this particular Flynn needs to kill us, then so be it."

"Okay. Hang on." Wyatt came about, taking position next to his Lucy. "I thought we decided the blame game wasn't an option."

"Exactly." Garcia seconded. "One bad apple doesn't, well you know, make a harvest."

"Sounded better in your head, didn't it?" Rufus smiled wryly, then nodded knowingly after Garcia glared at him. "Yeah it did."

"He's out there, right now, contemplating taking the shot. The final timeline, we allowed the final timeline to be determined by a deranged assassin who thinks what he's doing is justice. Justice . . . not murder and base, but certifiably correct and humane."

"A Flynn with a moral compass." Wyatt scoffed. "Awesome. You're ten years too late, pal."

"And what's that supposed to mean?"

"This is not why we retrieved this Garcia Flynn."

"And please do remind me, Lu, why did we retrieve him again? Huh?"

"Technically, we didn't." Rufus pointed a finger at the man in question. "He did."

"I don't care, Rufus."

"And you're not supposed to care, Wyatt."

"Thank you."

"And you're the reason he doesn't care." Older Lucy reprimanded Garcia. He shook his head in disdain.

"I wonder if he's completed his mission." Younger Lucy mused.

The group gazed at her in unison.

"What? I've never been in this situation before."

"You have, twenty-seven times. Give or take. I lost track around the ninth timeline."

"Comforting." Garcia jested.

Younger Lucy looked to her. "Then how do you know when . . . when he's done?"

"The future becomes clearer with every Lucy he takes off the map." She looked to Garcia. "And with every Flynn he eliminates, makes your destiny that much more set in stone."

"The One." Rufus announced theatrically.

"The Jet Li movie?" Wyatt asked intrigued. The geek nodded. "Sweet."

"Boys."

"He got stronger, right?"

"Uh-huh." Rufus concurred with a huge smile.

"I don't feel stronger."

"Yeah, neither do I."

"Time theories. They are indeed whacko."

"I don't think it's a geeky term, Rufus."

The geek glared disapprovingly. Wyatt smiled wickedly.

"Am I the only one who thinks this is a waste of time?"

As one, the group looked to Garcia.

"Whatever happens to him? Did any of you consider _the after_? He's dangerous, yes. He's unpredictable, no question. His reality is _his_ reality, _his_ perspective. If you know what I mean. What will happen if all's said and done? He can't be kept as a consolation prize."

"So he's a liability?" Lucy asked her Garcia. "What do you want?"

"I don't have a say. It's what they want, no?" He looked at the three remaining members. "They have the numbers. We are merely the additives to _their_ story."

"True." She agreed.

"Perhaps." Wyatt shrugged half-heartedly.

"See? He's not fully committed. Bad for a grunt. Bad for us."

"Wyatt." Older Lucy scowled, confused by his reluctance.

"Dude."

The soldier turned towards his friend. "I said perhaps."

"Yeah, it means you're considering considering bypassing the plan."

"Not entirely, no. He got me thinking is all."

"You're agreeing with Garcia?"

"Again, not entirely."

"But you're sitting on the fence, dude. Not cool."

"Okay." Older Lucy sat down, stroking her forehead in bitter frustration. "Either you're in all the way, Wyatt, or you have to step aside. I can't have my military commander with toes dipped. For this to work we need everyone in or we're completely screwed."

"Whoa, hang on, who said . . ."

"You said." Garcia interrupted with a wayward smile.

Logan slammed the table. "No!"

Its surface split in half, crumbling to pieces amidst them.

"Wyatt, c'mon dude. Our only table in this god-forsaken place. Not nice."

"He's irritating you."

"Yeah and he's doing a damn good job at being killed."

The smile on Garcia's lips grew, observing the soldier glare at him, enraged and more than ready for a fight. "There are cracks. I'm merely drawing your attention to what they are."

"No commitment?" Older Lucy asked as she stepped in between the men.

The giant looked down at her. "No conviction."

"And you have cause?"

"He does." Lucy came about and stood next to her Garcia. "Plenty of it."

"I've heard plenty of yammering but no real direction. And your plan hinges on a deranged man whose reality has been affected by one sole purpose. Retaliation. Death. Murder. Whatever cause he had, he lost it a long time ago."

"And what makes you different?"

"At least I know what I'm fighting for. Do you?"

She stared at him, the corner of her lips curling ever so slightly. "I know you don't." She backed up towards Logan who caught the sly tone in her voice. "The fight's been ongoing and you've barely joined. Ten years versus an hour doesn't make you an expert on time. It makes you impulsive and reckless, diving into something you hardly understand."

She motioned a hand at the younger Lucy. "She's no different."

"Hey."

"He's poking the nest, to see and to evaluate if our cause is worth the trouble. It's understandable."

"I'm glad we agree." Garcia mocked.

"And when you've been at this for as long as we have, cracks are inevitable. Conviction, conviction and hope reduces to paper thin, what lays behind it is easily recognizable. Especially when a group lives and operates outside of time, reality automatically splits and provokes fear and doubt. We have no control, whatsoever, because the endgame shifts in and out according to what is happening within the various timelines. Which means, nothing is set. Until now."

"Your destiny has always hinged on Flynn's actions." The younger Lucy surmised.

"Yes."

"So you deliberately sowed doubt." Garcia assumed.

"Yes."

"To make him question his plan and the plan of his puppet master."

Rufus nodded. "Yeah."

"To guarantee that he would bring you what you needed."

"Which is the two of us."

Garcia looked to his Lucy, and then frowned. "To do what?"


	13. Chapter 13

**THIRTEEN**

* * *

In procession, five lifeboats apppeared in the warehouse. Doors opened, soldiers filed out, secured the area, then waited upon their Commander.

Logan twirled his index finger in the air, issuing orders via his com-link. "As instructed, each team take a floor. You know the drill. Use force as needed and be safe. Move out."

He moved ahead, with his Lucy, Rufus and an extra soldier hot on his heels, for the double doors which opened upon their approach. Behind them, Garcia and Lucy along with two soldiers followed them, their destination the fifth floor as advised by the older Flynn.

"Take the elevator." Wyatt said. "We'll use the emergency stairs."

Garcia nodded, leading his team inside the contraption, then turned to face Wyatt's group. "See you on the other side."

"Keep your eyes open." Lucy directed at the older Lucy who smiled softly.

The doors closed.

"Lucy, with me." Garcia gestured at the space to his rear, then motioned to the two men. "Take that corner. Out of sight, out of mind."

The men adhered and moved for the right hand corner, one kneeling and the other with rifle poised above the other's head.

Some minutes later, the elevator slowed.

"Get ready fellas." Garcia tugged Lucy closer to his person, making sure she was protected from a possible firefight.

The doors opened.

Flashing red lights illumined the corridor. Garcia waved two fingers at the men. They moved forward slowly, with their leader and Lucy moving in their shadow.

"Quiet." The short soldier whispered.

"Too quiet." His stocky friend replied.

"Up ahead."

After signalling for the men to wait by the whitewashed room, Garcia and Lucy moved for the observation room. As one, they breached the rooms, finding them empty.

"Shit." Garcia tapped his earpiece. "They know." The men inside the room looked to the mirror, understanding the consequences.

"What now?" Lucy asked, eyeing the built-in bench and hardware occupying the space beneath the mirror. He stepped up alongside her, observing the green and red lights flicker lazily.

"We're too early?"

"It's happened before?" She questioned worried.

He squeezed her shoulder in comfort. "We expected a move like this. Every stronghold has a backup plan in place, for in case they're infiltrated. We'll wait for all the clear."

Lucy nodded her accord before looking at the mirror. Within the whitewashed room, the two men stood guard at the door. "What do you think they did here?"

He looked at the men, pondering too, did a turnabout, taking in the room bit for bit. Stopped, with eyes gaging the clipboard neatly left upon the chair and in clear sight, almost as if whomever wanted them to know did so with a specific thing in mind.

"I believe we're up to our necks, Lucy."

"Hm?" She faced him, marking the renowned glimmer of anger spark in his eyes. "What?"

"We're royally screwed." Garcia grabbed the radio from his pocket and switched the channel. "Wyatt get out!"

The floor shook above them. Garcia grabbed her by the arm and darted for the corridor.

"What was that?" She shouted above the sirens.

The men joined them, dashing for the elevator at the end of the hallway.

"It's a setup!" Garcia slammed the panel. "Dammit! Too perfect. Too clean. I should've known."

The elevator opened and they entered. He slammed the warehouse's button, watching with frustration as the contraption complied with the command. Lucy stood behind him, trembling and numb, wondering if there were survivors. With the scope and tremor of the aftershock, it might have been multiple targets at the same time. She pushed the thoughts aside and focussed on Garcia's voice.

"Watch yourselves, fellas. We're mice caught in a firebox. Tight formation. The mothership our destination."

"Wh-what about the others?"

"Lucy, whomever Flynn expected us to find, they're long gone. There's nothing left to salvage. And those who survived know the protocol."

"What if?"

"Listen." Garcia faced her. She recoiled at the intensity in his eyes. "We need to regroup. If we stay, there's no chance in hitting them again."

The elevator slowed. Doors opened

"Sir."

Garcia turned.

Lucy looked by him and gasped. "Oh no."

"We're not going back." The stocky soldier stated.


	14. Chapter 14

**FOURTEEN**

* * *

"It's not supposed to happen. You said this wouldn't happen."

"Shut up."

Richard glared at the redhead before gazing to the third person occupying the dimly lit room. She was quiet, too calm for his liking. He grunted.

"Satisfied?"

"No. It's not good enough."

"All the bells and whistles, and still it's not enough. What do you want?"

"Question is. What do you want, Dr Townhouse?"

"No-no, I distinctly remember my expertise forfeiting the day you walked into this facility. This is your brainchild. Do something. Anything."

"You volunteered, I liked the concept, and now it's spiralling out of your control."

"We did just blow their only mode of transport to pieces. Not to mention more than half of their forces are either dead or barely breathing." Emma smiled wickedly. "They are trapped here."

"What about Flynn?" The woman asked, ignoring the smugness on the redhead's face. "Any news on our saboteur? They didn't gain valuable information by stumbling onto our location. They got to the next best thing. He betrayed you, Dr Townhouse."

"It was full proof."

"So full proof indeed, they knew exactly where to go and what to do in order to permanently cripple not only our Base of operations but also our life's work."

"No, you don't understand, Director. There was no margin for error. He showed no signs of manipulation. And I made sure his mind was so scrambled he couldn't be subject to influence."

"The perfect killing machine?" She mocked.

"Y-y-yes."

"No."

Richard bit his bottom lip. Emma smirked, enjoying the squirming effect the Director had on the scientist.

He observed the screens, frowned deeply before looking over his shoulder. The Director crossed her arms, scrunching her white blouse and taught blazer. The thinking lines upon her forehead were deeply furrowed. She was worried, not due to the failure of their mission, but for the subject. For her to have crawled from the recesses of her confined office, meant this man, this test subject and his success meant a great deal. A lot more than Emma let on, and a lot more than he'd bargained for.

Placing a fist to his lips, Richard cleared his throat. He lowered the hand, with both ladies watching him carefully.

"We could reset it. Start over." None said a word. He added, cautiously. "We have the technology, the data and errors. None would be the wiser. We could erase everything; begin a time loop of our own."

"This whole experiment is based upon cancelling their time loop. To begin again, only proves her point that the timeline, any timeline is malleable and subject to human error that can be revised."

"Time traveling's based upon subtle changes."

"It's subject to whoever owns the right to change it. I want to eliminate the possibility. For life to take its natural course without interference by a secondary party. Any person for that matter."

"To guarantee that such a timeline exists, we will need to continue eliminating the possibility. Don't you see? Already we have initiated a loop of our own. And if you want this technology to be non-existent, we would have to keep it around to stop any other person from creating it."

"He has a point." Emma agreed. "This attack by the Resistance proves we've created one more Catch-22. Another good versus bad scenario. People fighting, again, for what they think should be history and a possible future."

"It's all hypothetical." The Director reminded them. "Just another theory gone wrong."

"Which only proves the point, Lucy." Emma stressed. "Nothing we've done works."

"Simulation after simulation equals to a sole conclusion." Richard explained. "As long as time travel exists, there will be someone or something that resists the current administration. So to speak. We keep knocking our heads against the same wall. With no positive results."

"You guaranteed, with this system, that we could test all theories, to find the needle in the haystack. I even supplied you with a willing participant. We were all in. You said this would work. But it always concludes with a rogue element either catching on to our plans, or finding and successfully infiltrating our Base."

"And we keep arguing in circles after each failed simulation. Face it. I keep ending up on the losing side. Pack it up and let yourself continue reinstating the same boring loop. You win in the end. I say it's a victory."

"Not for the one who loses his life to save me."

Emma laughed. "Your team – you mean."

Lucy scowled her displeasure.

Richard rubbed his hands together, then held them spread-eagle in front of him and shrugged. "An _A_ for effort."

Stroking her eyes between thumb and index finger, Lucy breathed a tiresome sigh. "What happens after the attack?"

"Excuse me?"

Emma grabbed her shoulder. "No, come on, Lucy. What's done is done."

"Not until I say so." Lucy shrugged the redhead's hand away and looked to Richard. "Answer the question, Dr Townhouse. What happens after our attack?"

"We've never really taken the aftermath into account, Director. We always stopped after their breach of our facility."

"Let it pan out."

"What, no."

"It's the sole option we haven't tried."

"With the same result."

"Exactly." The redhead agreed.

"Replies based upon assumptions." Lucy shoved her hand at the flat screen monitor. "Garcia and Lucy are alive in this scenario. Give them an opportunity to regroup, and let's see where they go from here."

"Assuming none survived the attack."

"We're not assuming anything, Doctor. We are seeing this simulation through to the end."

"And what about Flynn? He's in possession of a Mothership."

"And they are under the impression that he betrayed them."

"They still will have a ship at their disposal."

"You can't know for sure what they'll do with it."

"But every Garcia and every Lucy up to now revived the loop."

Emma gazed at the monitor as well, noting what Lucy saw minutes before. "Not in this simulation. Remember, when Flynn gets back and they eliminate him from the equation, they are the only ones left. There are no other timelines, except for theirs. It falls to them now. They are the original timeline."

"So we hope." Richard said with disbelief. "Flynn's resilient. Our dear Director chose a tough opponent."

"This Garcia trapped with this Lucy – he's not taken by Flynn. To him, this older version of himself is just as dangerous as Rittenhouse was. And Rittenhouse he defeats with ease. He will have no problem eliminating Flynn."

"And you're okay with it?" The scientist asked of Lucy. "Flynn comes from our timeline. When this simulation is successful, in real life you will have to forfeit whatever connection you share with him. Since essentially, he is a part of you."

Richard and Emma watched the confusion crease her brow for a few moments before she turned and walked for the door.

"I lost that part of me a long time ago."

"Is that a go-ahead?" He asked when she crossed the threshold.

"It's the sacrifice of a time traveller."


End file.
